


Too Hot

by deepfriedmoonpie



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Ethos might be an asshole, Games, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepfriedmoonpie/pseuds/deepfriedmoonpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever Cain had said to Abel must have been the right thing, because the bashful blush that stained Abel’s cheeks began to deepen and spread to his throat as Cain nipped at his lips and pushed harder, a little more aggressive than before.</p>
<p>(prompt from More Biting)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Hot

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure how this whole More Biting thing works, but here you go. I tried.
> 
> I wrote this all in one shot.
> 
> Hi.
> 
> 06/29/13 - Changed the summary to something less stupid and added a little note at the end.
> 
> _________________________________________________________________

Once again, Ethos drew the short straw.

Once again, Ethos found himself at the helm of a distasteful task, alone, feigning confidence and concern as he needled and prodded, trying everything he could think of to get Abel to admit to him the source of the constant stream of bruises he vainly attempted to conceal with the collar of his uniform.

He’d tried before out of actual concern, before he’d heard the rumor circulating the Sleipnir that Cain was a singularly talented man. Back when he’d thought the bruises came from abuse instead of a relationship he and his fellow navigators knew nothing about yet still envied, lonely and in the middle of nowhere. _Something_ was going on. At first he’d brushed the rumor off as silly gossip of the bored and frustrated, because while Cain was certainly gorgeous and Ethos wasn’t the only one sighing after him when he spotted him dressed down at mess, dusky skin glowing and eyes bright from training, the fighter was known for his violence and they were all too terrified to try to find out first-hand. Cain didn’t even seem the type to _like_ kissing let alone be _good_ at it. Great, if the rumor was true. _Mind-blowing_ was the term he’d actually heard.

When the nosy group of navigators cornered him in the lab once again he knew before Phobos even smirked at him what he was being tasked to do, and he accepted, afraid of being bullied and if he was honest, desperate to know the truth as much as anyone else. Curiosity and the drive for knowledge were, after all, desirable traits in Fleet navigators. At least that was what Ethos told himself when he sat across from Abel and once again tried to pry the truth from his scarred lips, inventing some stupid story about how he and his fighter didn’t get along and asking Abel for advice. And, once again, Abel blushed and blabbered and said some really smart, insightful things but not the one thing Ethos wanted to hear, so it was almost a relief when Cain and his strange little fighter shadow joined them at the table. He wasn’t looking forward to the ass-chewing Phobos would give him for bungling it yet again, but maybe Phobos would force the assignment upon someone else instead.

No such luck.

It was the night before the shipyard operation, nearly a week after the raid sirens sent them scrambling after the enemy in the middle of what he’d hoped was his final attempt, when Phobos and the rest of the navigators reminded him that it was pretty much then or never. If the early projections were to be believed nearly half the ships deployed the next morning weren’t expected to return. The rumor was a stupid thing to think about at such a time, but Ethos had to admit that it distracted him from dwelling on the possibility of his own mortality and figured it was the same for the others, so he set about his task with renewed vigor, inwardly patting himself on the back for his charity.

He had a plan, and it could work.

After an unusually subdued evening mess Ethos installed himself in the middle of one of the couches in the small lounge off to the side and waited. He’d made a small production of fixing Abel with a worried glance and heading there instead of back to quarters after he’d dumped his tray, so he knew he’d trigger Abel’s innate sense of chivalry. He didn’t have to wait long before the navigator poked his head in the doorway, his forehead creased with concern.

“Ethos?” he queried. “Are you all right?”

“Oh!” Ethos exclaimed in feigned surprise. “I’m fine. I...just didn’t want to go back to my bunk yet, you know?”

Abel smiled gently as he sat on the couch opposite. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I feel it, too.”

Ethos smiled back and pulled out his tablet, pretending to find something to read as they settled into companionable silence.

“What are you reading?” Abel suddenly asked.

“Oh, uh...just some silly vampire romance thing,” he replied as he pulled it up in case he needed to prove it. “It’s really bad, but the kissing scenes are kind of nice.” He watched Abel’s face closely for any hint of a reaction but the man was apparently oblivious.

“Vampire romance, huh? May I see?”

Ethos blinked in surprise as Abel crossed the small distance and sat himself to the right of him on the couch and leaned over the tablet, glad he made the right call in actually queuing up the thing.

“Oh, I think I’ve read this,” Abel said. “It’s the one where she’s this awkward girl in a love triangle with a vampire and a werewolf, right? Have you read the rest? They get worse.”

“What are you girls doing in here?” Cain demanded gruffly, unwittingly relieving Ethos from having to come up with a lie.

Ethos watched as Abel looked up from the tablet and gave the darkly beautiful fighter what he thought was an uncertain look.

“Just talking,” Abel told him.

“Talking, huh?” Cain snorted and waved his hand. “Shove over.”

Ethos scrambled to the end of the couch as Abel shifted to the center and Cain plopped down on his other side. The fighter threw his arm casually along the back of the couch above Abel, not touching but nonetheless possessive and kicked his feet up onto the small table in front of them and closed his eyes. Was that a little color Ethos saw in Abel’s cheeks?

Just then one of the other fighters - that shadowy little thing that constantly trailed after Cain - apparently let the curiosity get the better of him and wandered in, impassively taking in the scene followed by Phobos, Porthos, and Praxis, as well as several others Ethos didn’t know. Word must have gotten around that there would be a show. Ethos idly watched as they filtered to the various chairs and couches and mused that if they burned through the Colterons half as quickly as the rumor mill chugged through the Sleipnir they’d all return the next day heroes.

Just as Ethos was considering his next move someone produced a pack of cards and invited players, and someone else - he sounded like Praxis - struck up a quiet conversation with a random navigator somewhere behind him. He looked up and caught Abel smiling at him, probably believing the impromptu gathering to be a show of camaraderie instead of the setup it was and he suddenly felt a little pang of guilt, but he quickly snuffed it out. As much as he liked and respected Abel and didn’t want to hurt him, he was equally desperate to ignore the next day’s assignment for just a little longer. If it meant Abel would be the sacrificial lamb for half a second, so be it. Then it came to him.

“Does anyone want to play a game?” Ethos asked a little louder than the buzz of the crowd.

“Truth or Dare?” Phobos suggested as if he’d read Ethos’ mind.

Several men groaned.

“I’ll go first,” Ethos offered. “Someone ask me a truth.”

“Spit or swallow?” someone called from across the room and everyone laughed.

“Swallow!” Ethos announced to more laughter. “Who’s next?”

The game was off to a roaring start.

It continued on that way for a while, some silly truths and a few hilarious dares, Praxis getting some laughs when someone dared him to attempt a handstand and Porthos regaled them all with the humiliating tale of how he lost his virginity to his cousin Laura when he was fifteen. Finally it was Cain’s turn and time for Ethos to spring the trap.

“Cain, truth or dare?” he asked.

“Not interested,” the fighter grumbled from his prone position on the couch.

“Oh, come on,” Abel cajoled and jabbed him lightly with his elbow. “Just the once.”

Cain gave his partner a sidelong look and heaved a belabored sigh, sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Dare,” he grumped after a moment, to Ethos’ great relief. He’d been relying on the man’s competitive spirit to see this through.

“Play ‘Too Hot’ with Abel,” he demanded without hesitation.

The room went silent as everyone turned to face a slightly amused looking Cain and a furiously blushing Abel.

“No way,” Abel refused and shook his head. “Give him truth.”

“Hang on, now...it’s not your turn,” Cain reminded him with a frown, considering something momentarily and then looked over Abel’s shoulder to Ethos. “Standard rules?” he asked.

Ethos nodded.

“You’re not seriously going to-”

“Abel, shut up,” the fighter snapped and pinned his navigator with the most intense, commanding gaze Ethos had ever seen.

Abel pulled his knees up to his chest and closed his eyes, defeated. “Please don’t make me do this,” he pleaded in a small voice.

Ethos was suddenly slapped with the realization that maybe the bruises on Abel’s neck weren’t there voluntarily, that maybe his first theory had been correct all along and Cain really was the selfish piece of shit he’d always heard about instead of the accomplished lover the rumor belied, that stupid gossip that Ethos wanted to believe instead of the truth because the truth meant something sinister, something cruel. He felt the color drain from his face; this wasn’t a game anymore, this was Ethos deliberately hurting his friend for entertainment and he was, in that moment, an even bigger asshole than Cain. He was about to pull the plug on the whole thing when Cain’s expression suddenly changed to something he hadn’t quite seen before, something tender and soft and sympathetic and the words died in his throat.

“Hey,” the fighter said gently and squeezed Abel’s knee. “Hey, look at me.”

Abel reluctantly opened his eyes and gazed at him, eyes shiny with unshed tears. 

“You know we might not come back tomorrow,” Cain murmured, loud enough for Ethos to hear. Abel gave a tight nod and Cain leaned in to put his lips right up to the navigator’s ear and whispered something else, causing the navigator’s eyes to go wide and his jaw to slightly drop. Abel pulled back and pinned the fighter with a searching gaze, but Ethos didn’t have much time to wonder what Cain had said before Abel suddenly launched himself at the fighter and mashed their faces together. Cain chuckled against Abel’s lips before he gently pushed him back so the navigator was sitting on his knees and calmly extricated Abel’s fingers from his hair before gripping the back and seat of the couch, probably in an effort to keep his hands from wandering and losing the game. Abel’s hands wavered in the air for a moment before he eventually tucked them safely between his knees.

Ethos moved off the couch then, suddenly uncomfortable with the two men being intimate beside him, and sat back against the arm of the opposite couch to watch in stunned silence with the rest of the crowd. 

Whatever Cain had said to Abel must have been the right thing, because the bashful blush that stained Abel’s cheeks began to deepen and spread to his throat as Cain nipped at his lips and pushed harder, a little more aggressive than before. Abel sighed and inched closer, his hands again free and very much at war with the rules, making little frustrated fists and patting around distractedly. For all his flailing he somehow managed to avoid touching the fighter but it was a little ridiculous; Ethos began to feel ashamed at watching his friend come undone right in front of him, but he couldn’t help but be fascinated. No one had ever kissed _him_ like that.

Cain backed off a little, likely sensing Abel’s lack of control and allowed him to gather himself and put his hands between his knees again, but as soon as they were secured Cain was off again, sucking the blonde’s lower lip and running his tongue along the scar. He shifted slightly and Ethos saw the barest hint of tongue as Cain thrust it deep into Abel’s mouth. He growled lowly and that was it, Abel’s death knell, the sound of complete and utter victory as Abel groaned loudly, threaded his fingers through the fighter’s glossy dark hair and hauled himself up to straddle his lap, completely forgetting or just too far gone to care that he was being watched by a dozen men.

It was over: Cain had won, and Ethos expected him to break away to boast like the competitive son of a bitch he was, but instead his hands flew to Abel’s hips and he pulled him close, their bodies touching everywhere possible as their kissing took on a deeper, more heated character. Cain’s hands slipped under Abel’s jacket and Ethos felt his own cheeks heat as he wondered what he was doing with them, but then Cain pulled them out and patted the small of Abel’s back, slowing him down and gently bringing the game to an end.

Abel pulled away from Cain and shakily brushed a lock of dark hair from his eyes and tucked it behind his ear. They gazed at each other with what Ethos wonderingly realized was something other than lust, something much more important before the navigator obviously remembered where he was and buried his red face in Cain’s shoulder. Cain wrapped his arms around him and kissed his temple, apparently saying something Ethos couldn’t hear because Abel nodded and slowly got to his feet. He reached down and pulled Cain up by the hand, a little off balance because of the weight difference or something else, but the fighter steadied him with sure hands on his waist and gave him a gentle push toward the door, leaving the room in such complete silence one could hear a pin drop on Earth.

Ethos stared hard at the floor between his feet, angry and ashamed at what he’d just done. He’d only meant to entertain and distract his comrades by getting to the bottom of a silly rumor, a joke, but what he’d ended up doing instead was exposing something intimate and heavy, something too good for public consumption. He sprang to his feet and glared around, daring someone to say something, but his eyes only met with the thoughtful looks of his fellow soldiers and Ethos knew that they had all come to the same conclusion he had.

Porthos rose then, an odd look on his face as he clapped a gentle hand on Ethos’ shoulder and walked out. One by one the rest followed, some exchanging quiet “good nights” and “see you tomorrows,” all seemingly preoccupied until it was just him and Praxis.

His fighter caught his eye and nodded toward the door. “You coming?” he asked.

“In a minute,” Ethos replied. “I just need a minute.”

Praxis nodded again and squeezed his shoulder lightly as he passed, leaving Ethos to his thoughts.

War was ugly. War was cruel. Even for the noblest of reasons war often suffered the consequence of falling on the wrong side of history when the benefit of hindsight revealed the great atrocities committed among the great heroics. It was sometimes difficult for Ethos to remember exactly why _this_ war was necessary, why the possibility of mankind’s extinction was so terrible when they were usually so terrible to each other, but tonight he’d received an unexpected reminder from an even more unexpected source. What he’d just witnessed was important, and if he couldn’t take a lesson from it then he was definitely fighting this war for all the wrong reasons.

Ethos looked around the empty room and smiled to himself, letting go of his shame. He’d apologize to Abel and Cain in the morning but somehow knew it probably wouldn’t really be necessary; what he saw between them was worth looking death in the face and he hoped to find it for himself one day.

**Author's Note:**

> What Cain said:
> 
> “I don’t want to go out there tomorrow knowing that the only proof this existed was a pack of rumors and a shitty thing I did to your lip back before...before I knew better.”


End file.
